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Chapter 2 - the story continues

Thanks for the comments and feedback following the posting of chapter 1 of my book. Chapter 2 is below and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Hope you enjoy it.

Mid-August – Chester

It had been a month since the
attack on the old lady that shocked most of Britain. The fact it was leaked by
a blog embarrassed most of the hacks still left on Fleet Street and even more
so the nouveau-scribes in Canary Wharf.

The Home Secretary condemned ‘The
Day Today’ for putting the story out there amid pressure on the Government for
standing seemingly idly by while Britain was gripped by all too regular violent
interludes.

People were scared. They were
scared and angry that nothing was being done. Public visits by any Cabinet
Minister were met with derision and speeches received with a chorus of boos. The
election could not come soon enough as the majority of the public had lost
faith in the current Government.

David Lawson had been campaigning
on the back of a promise to rid the streets of these feral youths. The gangs
had been occupying the town centres at night up and down the country making it
a no-go zone for good, honest and hard-working members of society.

He was sick of it and had been
particularly vocal throughout his meteoric rise in the Party.

He was the epitome of an upper
middle class upbringing and spent his younger life enjoying the bounties of the
family’s rural spread in Buckinghamshire. He trusted his instincts and was
prone to making quick decisions. Sometimes these worked in his favour and other
times he created himself a difficult challenge.

His father was a local businessman
made good through some colourful deals with overseas suppliers. As the business
grew, the older Mr Lawson pursued a career in politics but could never shake
off the uncertainty of his business dealings to carry favour in the party.

David was determined to go one
better and firmly plant the family name in the annals of political history.

His disgust at anti-social
behaviour had endeared him to the voting public and it was a natural
progression for him to represent the Party against the much-maligned
Government. He hadn’t missed a chance to criticise the Prime Minister for his
misgivings and tonight, he was launching the Party’s platform upon which they
would aim to secure victory in the upcoming election.

“I want to say this to the people
of Britain….” a purposeful pause extended beyond the sentence to let the words
sink in for effect and the gathered crowd soaked it up… “No more do we have to sit
in our houses protected by our doors and gates.”

“No more do we have to live under
this self-imposed curfew!”

Cheers and audible approval emanated as the puppet
master started to control his willing audience. “No more do we pray our
children return safely from their social escapades because today is the first
day on the road to reclaiming these streets and taking back our towns!”
rapturous applause erupted.

“…and I promise you this, I will
not stop until this wonderful country of ours is restored to the green and
pleasant land we all know it to be.”

“So join me in this upcoming election
to remove these statues of uncertainty… statues of mediocrity that pointlessly
flap around Whitehall and have done nothing but drive your country into the
ground ever since they were elected and know this…” dramatic pause utilised to
maximum effect…

“Know this… that we can make that
change… FORWARD TOGETHER.”

The campaign slogan hung in the air
and wrapped itself around the watching masses. They were completely lost in the
moment and before long were repeating the words back in an almost chant-like
fashion, fists punching the sky, smiles on faces that hadn’t witnessed such a
feeling of hope for far too long…

“Forward together”

“Forward together”

“Forward together”

As if he’d just scored the winning
goal in a World Cup Final, David Lawson raised his hands in celebration. He’d
just won the first of many towns on his campaign trail.

------------------------------------------------------------

A few streets away from the
political event, a young girl was riding her bike in the concreted area between
the garages belonging to the apartment block she lived in. She smiled to
herself as her mind was lost in the happiness she felt at that very moment. The
world was a wonderful place.

She’d lost track of time and was
sure her mum would be shouting down for her any minute to come up for her tea.
She wanted to use the last few minutes of playtime to continue feeling the
majesty of motion.

She’d got the bike for her birthday
from her mum’s friend Uncle Brian and had pretty much ridden it every spare
moment she had since then. Dad was gone and Uncle Brian made mum happy so, as
long as he keeps buying such amazing gifts, she didn’t mind.

The girl turned 180 degrees at the
far end of the garages by the fence and started to make her way through another
lap of her own private playground. As she neared the entrance to the road she
notice her lace was untied.

She stopped, put the stand down on
her bike and moved on to rectify her open lace. Under, over, under, over, she
repeated in her head what her mum had taught her… Then suddenly, out of the
corner of her eye, she noticed a third shoe appear. It was bigger than hers and
she looked up…

A group of six older girls were
standing there, two were holding her bike and one was towering over her camera
phone ready to capture the scene.

The little girl rose to her feet
only to receive a punch to her face. She fell instantly and the group starting
kicking their victim with a hatred and fury she’d never experienced before.

The kicks continued on and on. It
felt like they were never going to stop. Why…. was all the girl could think…
why are they doing this?

Huddled on the ground in a sort of
ball shape for protection the girl’s body became limp as the ferocious attack
started to subside……

The gang of girls dispersed taking
the little girls bike as a sort of vile trophy laughing as they vacated the
scene.

“Did you get it?” asked one of the
girls to the other as they strode away…

“Yep, caught all the action. Reckon
we’ll get a whole lot of shares when I upload this later…”

A few minutes later, a woman
appeared on the balcony overlooking the garage area.

“Jessica. Jessica,” she called,
scouring the vista before her as she said the little girl’s name. Her eyes
moved to the left and focused on a huddle on the ground… at that moment her
calls became shrieks…

“JESSSICA, NO, PLEASE NO,” as she
stared at the lifeless form. She ran down the stairs phone in hand already dialing for help.

------------------------------------------------------------

Samir made his way back from the political
gathering that saw David Lawson victorious in Chester. It had been some
performance and even he, as the ultimate cynic, couldn't help but be impressed.

He walked about three blocks when
he heard screaming sirens and saw an ambulance pursued by three police cars
speed around the corner. He followed the noise until he came to an apartment
complex.

A gathered crowd guided him as his
curiosity took over. He jostled for position to get a view of what must have
been a girl of only five or six being carried into an ambulance by concerned
paramedics. A police woman was trying to calm a twenty something lady who Samir
assumed was the mother of the child.

“What happened?” he asked an older
man to his right.

“Don’t know, one minute the kid was
playing by the garages on her bike, next minute she’s barely breathing after
taking a battering. The bike has gone so could have been a robbery,” he
responded.

“No, a lady over there said
something about a gang of girls, about fourteen years old or so beating the
girl up for no reason,” said a woman in front.

“Terrible business,” she concluded.

“Absolutely,” nodded Samir in agreement.

------------------------------------------------------------

Finsbury Park, North London

On the train on the way back to
London, Samir got his laptop out and started recording the day’s events. He
crafted a blog that perfectly encapsulated the headline he’d chosen.

‘Lawson wins Chester as 6 year old
taken to hospital, another victim of street violence’

He proof read his blog post and
attached a couple of images from the David Lawson rally. He then opened the
website ‘State of Hate’ which had become popular for videos and photos of gang
related violence over the last year or so.

The Government had been trying to
ban the website but no owner could be tracked. It used the Tor network to cloak
the site administrators in secrecy and proved almost impossible to find whoever
was responsible. So, it remained out there spreading the vile imagery of the
violence infecting the streets of Britain.

On a daily basis, new images and
videos were uploaded. Each could be liked, shared or commented on just like
Facebook. It was kind of like a social network for the scum of society and was
growing in popularity all the time.

Samir clicked through the sickening
posts and found the one he knew would be there, the one showing the video of
the girl getting beaten up. He linked his blog post to the video and published
it to ‘The Day Today’.

Within a few minutes he was already
receiving comments complaining about the violence as well as those thanking him
for uncovering what was really happening on the streets.

Before he knew it, the train pulled
into Euston Station. Twenty minutes later and he would be walking through his
front door.

------------------------------------------------------------

Houses of Parliament, London

The door clicked open with a
minimum of fuss. He was dressed all in black to avoid detection and like a
shadow he made his way across the forecourt to the diplomatic car. His keys fitted
perfectly into the lock. He didn't want to use the button for fear of making
too much noise. Sometimes, the good old
keyhole is just what you need, he thought to himself.

He started the car and drove it to
the main entrance. He punched in the code and the main door opened allowing him
to head off into the night.

Just as the main door closed shut,
the security guard burst through the internal door. He looked at the now vacant
space and checked the log on his laptop. Nothing had been booked out but
someone had taken a car.

He pulled out his mobile and made a
call….

“Bill, something’s happened. One of
the SO1 cars has gone and there’s nothing logged,” he said with a growing sense
of concern.

“John, take a breath, it’s probably
one of the ministers on a late night rendezvous to the other lady. You know
what it’s like,” said the reassuring voice on the other end of the line.

“I know but they usually at least
whisper in your ear that they’re going to take one off the books but no one’s
mentioned it to me.”

“Just give it an hour, if it’s not
back, call me again OK?”

“Sure, thanks Bill. I’ll do that.”

The car made its way out of central
London en route to the northern suburbs of the city. The driver was focused, he
had a special mission and he knew it was important to get it just right.

He drove for about 15 minutes and
it was noticeable how the built up city suddenly softened to more residential
surrounds. The GPS on his phone directed him left, then left again until he
came to a small boutique block of apartments.

He made sure no one saw him as he
got out of the car and made his was around to an alleyway at the side of the
block. The window was just above him as he hurled the rock through it before
making a hasty exit.

------------------------------------------------------------

Finsbury Park, North London

Samir walked out of the kitchen
with a cup of tea in his hand. It had been a long day and his blog post had
received a huge response. Some people were sickened by the video link and
others were grateful he had the guts to share the real story.

Several Ministers had criticised
‘The Day Today’ blog as being biased to David Lawson and ‘simply a tool of
propaganda’, but it was nothing he hadn't heard before. His readers knew he had
no political alignments and that was all he cared about.

He sipped his tea and flicked
through the channels on his TV when… SMASH…. the window caved inwards with some
force. He spilled his tea all over his shirt and jumped up like he’d received an
electric shock.

In the split second between imagination
and reality he thought he was going to get shot for some reason. It was then
when clarity revisited him that he noticed the rock on the floor. He picked it
up and found a note taped to the side.

He opened it and read the words
“Stop spreading your filthy lies or next time it will be more than a rock and
your window smashed in.”

He rushed to the window and could
just make out a private number plate on a black car. With his knowledge of
political affairs, he knew instantly it was an SO1 or Special Protection
Command car.

Special Protection Command were the
security detail commissioned to protect diplomats and members of Parliament
including the Prime Minister.

As he punched the number in to
emergency services he couldn't help thinking that it felt a little odd that
someone with the training received by the highly skilled members of SO1 would
make the simple mistake of enabling the car to be visible from his window.
There’s plenty of obscured places to conceal the car in his street.

He reported the incident but didn't reveal the whole story. He needed a report filed for insurance purposes but he
wasn’t about to tell the police that one of their own was the perpetrator.

------------------------------------------------------------

Houses of Parliament, London

John checked his watch almost every
five minutes until the hour passed. He went down to the garage and, to his
relief, the car was back where it belonged.

Just as
Bill predicted he thought to himself, just a minister out with his security detail visiting a special friend.
He didn’t bother reporting the incident. He knew better than to draw
attention to an early morning’s misgivings.

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